Spy Girls
by Seyi
Summary: For once, I'm submitting a story that ISN'T post ATY . It's a little different. Nothing in season two has happened yet- guess you could call this pre- the Box parts 1&2. Please, R&R. New Character!!!!!!!!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, or any of the characters; although I SURE AS HELL wish Jack and Dixon were mine. They belong to JJ Abrams and co. Please don't sue; I'm in college.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for now- just for language so far. I'll keep you posted.  
  
Pairing: Syd/Vaughn- eventually. Not really a mushy romance, although it'll have it's sweet moments for you shippers- I always have respect for you guys.  
  
  
  
Los Angeles  
  
"Woo.mmmbbbop baby, yeah."  
  
Sydney Bristow opened her eyes halfway, squinting at the early morning sun, which was viciously pounding down through her bedroom window.  
  
"What the." she muttered, wondering why her radio was playing. Then she remembered- she'd forgotten to turn it off the night before. With a barely perceptible growl she rolled out of bed, groaning softly as her feet hit the floor.  
  
"Yeah, baby.mmmbop."  
  
With one smooth, fluid motion, Sydney silenced the alarm-clock radio on her bedside table with a vicious slap. Definitely not a good way to wake up. What kid of sadist would even play Hanson at SEVEN in the MORNING- on a Saturday, for that matter? She stood up and stretched, wincing as she felt her back constricting. A routine training session inside SD-6 had left her nearly crippled the night before, and now she'd felt as if she'd been run over by a herd of angry zebras. On top of that, she had some serious cramps. Sydney stumbled to the door, eyes still half closed. Usually she was quite a morning person- a trait that never ceased to amaze her best friend, Francie-but now she felt like crap.  
  
"Need. Coffee," Sydney muttered, stumbling on the slick surface of her kitchen floor. After taking the huge can of Folgers from the cabinet, she stared at the shelf where she normally kept the coffeepot. It had never looked so high to her before.  
  
"Damn."  
  
The phone rang suddenly, its loud ringing grating on her already stressed nerves. Startled, she dropped the can of coffee, watching with the morbid fascination that only a tired person can manifest as the can hit the floor, bursting and spilling its contents.  
  
"Shoot!" Sydney grabbed the phone, taking it down with her as she knelt in the middle of the floor, trying to salvage some of the coffee. "Hello?"  
  
"Syd? Thank God." It was Dixon.  
  
"Hey." Sydney gave up on trying to save the stuff and plunked down in the mess, trying to get comfortable. "What's up?"  
  
"Are you even awake?" Dixon could barely hear her.  
  
"Sure, I'm awake," Sydney said listlessly, scooping up the coffee grounds with her hands, allowing them to slip through her fingers. "Dixon, have you ever chewed raw coffee grounds before?" She popped a pinch into her mouth.  
  
"Um, no. But, Syd-"  
  
"Good. They're disgusting." She hoisted herself up in order to use the sink to rinse out her mouth.  
  
"Well...okay. Anyway, I just called to tell you that Sloane called an emergency meeting for this morning. It's in thirty minutes. Mandatory."  
  
Sydney was instantly awake. "What? Why didn't he call me?"  
  
"He tried. You weren't picking up your phone. I've been trying to reach you for the past hour."  
  
"I overslept. Some normal people do that on Saturdays, you know."  
  
"Well, get yourself over here- you know how he is about lateness." With that comment, Dixon hung up.  
  
Sydney sighed. Cursing under her breath, she left the mess on the floor and rushed into her bathroom to take possibly the shortest shower on record. After considering the strict business dress code of SD-6 for about a nanosecond, she pulled on the first outfit she saw- a black sweater and a pair of black drawstring pants. If Sloane wanted her dressed properly, he wouldn't call stupid meetings at the crack of dawn. Jamming her feet into a pair of black canvas slip-ons, she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.  
  
***********  
  
Will Tippen and Francie Calfo stood outside Sydney's door. Will stepped away from the knocker. "She's not home." Francie looked confused. "She said she'd meet us here so we could all go to breakfast- where is she? Its unusual for her to stand us up- unless, of course..."  
  
Francie was interrupted by Will's ringing phone. Holding up a finger, he picked up. "Hold on a sec, Fran. Hello? Oh yeah, hi- we're here, where are...? What? On a SATURDAY? Yeah, I agree, he should be shot.no, it's okay..no Syd, really, we'll do it another time..it's no big deal, really- huh? Okay, bye.."  
  
Will hung up, a bemused look on his face.  
  
"That Sydney?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Let me guess- something came up at work."  
  
"Yup. Her boss called some surprise meeting or something. That job of hers is really weird. She gets called out for all kinds of crap at all hours." He pocketed his phone and took Francie's elbow, gently steering her towards his car. "I tell her to quit, but.." he shrugged. "It's just..weird."  
  
Francie gave him a look. "William Tippen-"  
  
"I know, I KNOW. Stay out of her business." Will rolled his eyes.  
  
"I mean it, Will. She'll tell you what's up if she wants to."  
  
"Yeah." Will's tone became contrite. "Let's go get some food, alright? I'll..stop. I promise. Come on, I'm starving."  
  
Francie searched his face, still not satisfied. "Will. If you DO get involved, I personally will kick your-"  
  
"Arraaggh! All RIGHT," said Will irritably, raking both hands through his sandy hair. "Come on."  
  
Dixon looked at his watch for the third time. It was eight-fifteen- Sydney was VERY late. He glanced over at his colleagues. Sloane was impatiently tapping away at the glasstop desk with a silver Parker. His ever-present black leather briefing folder sat before him, untouched. Marshall, who'd been called down form the tech department, was doodling on his folder with a felt-tip pen that promptly exploded, sending splatters of ink all over the table. Sloane gave him a glacial look, then turned to Dixon, who was seated next to Jack Bristow, silently handing Marshall a handkerchief with a slight roll of his eyes. Sloane frowned at Dixon.  
  
"Were my instructions unclear?"  
  
Dixon sat up straight. "No, sir. I called her and informed her of the meeting time. She overslept, so she may be a little late."  
  
Sloane nodded, still looking unconvinced.  
  
Just then, as if she's heard his words, Sydney stalked into the room, banging the door open with an utter disregard for poor Marshall, who was behind the door throwing away his pen. With a brusque "sorry I'm late," she flounced over to her chair and plopped down. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she saw a drawn, tired, pale-faced woman with dark circles under her eyes, shower-damp hair pulled back in a stringy ponytail, and a gathering zit on her chin. Lovely. Altogether, she was the perfect portrait of PMS.  
  
Sloane looked at her sternly. "Sydney, you are late. Luckily your partner was able to vouch for you."  
  
No. Really? The words were at the tip of Sydney's tongue, but she managed to bite them back. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."  
  
Let's hope not." Sloane reopened his mouth, eager to mediate a lecture, but stopped short when he saw the expression on her face. Over twenty years of marriage had taught him one thing- never, EVER argue with a woman who looks like that. "Hem. Anyway, now that you have graced us with your presence, we can begin."  
  
Taking his cue, the others all sat up straighter, pulling their folders towards them and turning their flat screen computer monitors on. Sloane waited a few seconds for the noise to abate, then began to speak.  
  
"This meeting has actually been planned for quite some time, but for certain security reasons, was not announced till this morning. I regret any inconvenience this may have caused you."  
  
Sydney smirked audibly, and Dixon kicked her underneath the table, flashing her a warning glance that was supplemented by one from Jack. She'd never been that rude before, at least to his face.  
  
"Now, as you know, you have been working together for some time," Sloane continued in his monotone. "We are pleased with your combined work so far, although we may not say so as often as we should. Your loyalty and dedication to this agency has not been unnoticed. I do give praise where it is due, and I think you both deserve it." He gave Sydney and Dixon an actual smile.  
  
Sydney wanted to puke. Her head was pounding, too.  
  
Sloane continued. "Your status is about to change." He paused for dramatic effect.  
  
Dork, Sydney thought irreverently, her loathing for the man increasing. I want my bed. What a bastard.  
  
"A new member will be joining your usual team."  
  
Sydney sat up straight, her headache forgotten. "What?"  
  
Dixon looked equally surprised. Adding new team members was very rare- SD-6 usually tried to keep working partners together as long as possible. In fact, except when either was indisposed, Sydney couldn't remember working with someone as extensively as she did Dixon.  
  
Sloan continued. "This new agent has been working with us since 1999. She's a brilliant young woman- a genius, really- who's been highly recommended for promotion in this agency. It may interest you, Sydney, that she was under Jack's direct training, and she is with us under his recommendation."  
  
Sydney's head was spinning. Her father? Recommended an SD-6 agent to her team? His face was totally unreadable, as usual. No answers there.  
  
"Agent Talia Carreras." Sloane opened his folder, and the others followed. A picture of a very young, unsmiling woman appeared on the screen in front of them.  
  
"Age 21," Sloane continued. "She's achieved a great deal for being so young. She speaks over eleven languages, holds a degree in linguistics, and can assume nearly any language, disguise, or identity without suspicion."  
  
A series of photographs, each of Agent Carreras, appeared, with her in a different disguise each time. "Miss Carreras is the only daughter of the late Supreme Court judge Marcus Carreras."  
  
"That judge who was assassinated in the courtroom a couple years back by some deranged defendant?" Dixon wanted to know.  
  
Sloane nodded. "The very one. His actual assassin was KGB agent McKennas Cole, sent to silence the man. As you know, Cole went rogue from our agency over six years ago. Cole disappeared, and SD-6 took her into a witness protection program as a precaution. After Cole's henchman was caught by our agency, she continued to work with us, out of gratitude.  
  
"Her potential was discovered, and since then, she's become one of our most valuable assets, due to her father's connections. She is also an excellent agent.  
  
"She's a unique young woman. In her first years with this agency, though, were weren't completely sure she'd work out."  
  
"She got demerits- twice? For submitting reports in Pig Latin?" Dixon was incredulous, reading form his folder.  
  
"Yes- that was an example of her former....childishness," Jack broke in. "She was quite a practical joker. Pranks were common, but she was not discharged, due to her exceptional skills and performances in training missions. After all, she was barely eighteen when she was recruited- and as you know, the pressures of this job negatively affect agents with years of experience."  
  
Sloane nodded in agreement. "Your father, Sydney, saw something in her, and took her under his tutelage, with his other trainees. Since then, her maturity has been proven in many ways, and I feel she is ready to take her next step in this career.  
  
"Agent Carreras will be joining you on your next mission. I will provide the details after she is introduced to all of you." He paused. "Are there any questions?"  
  
When none were forthcoming, he turned to Jack. "She's your trainee- why don't you bring her in?"  
  
Jack nodded briskly, then stood and strode out the door.  
  
Feedback, please, y'all. I don't mind flames, just say SOMETHING! Constructive criticism is always appreciated, though. Oh, and does anyone know how to make italics show up on this website? 


	2. And so it begins

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.  
  
Rating: Ditto.  
  
Talia Carreras stood in her small cubicle, shifting nervously from one high- heeled foot to the other. Her head snapped up as Jack Bristow came to the entrance of her new desk space.  
  
"Agent Carreras," he said in a cool, collected tone. "Sloane will see you now." His voice was flat and emotional as usual. Talia swallowed, nodded and soundlessly slipped past him into the aisle.  
  
To her surprise, she felt his fingers rest lightly on her elbow. "Good luck," he said. With that, he was gone, already halfway to the debriefing room.  
  
Talia straightened up, fixed her face into the unreadable expression mirrored by all SD-6 agents, and headed for the door. As she walked, her mind was flooded with memories. She had never really known her mother- the woman had dies shortly after her birth. The day her father was murdered- he'd simply been dropping her off at the mall, giving her the usual drill about not talking to strange guys. He'd kissed her cheek, as usual, and slipped an extra ten into her pocket. She'd grabbed her purse and opened the door- and then it happened.  
  
"Talia!" Her father had screamed. "Duck!"  
  
The rest was a blur of fast-moving images wrought with intense color and sound- her father, laying on the pavement in a pool of dark blood and bits of flesh, the funeral, the blurry days of tears and confusion spent with her Uncle Sergei in his native Russia, till she turned eighteen and moved back to the states.  
  
Then came her transition from good-girl Talia Mercedes Carreras to "that crazy Cuban chick," connoisseur of fast food, faster friendship, and the fastest cars on earth...to Agent T. Carreras, working for SD-6.  
  
Talia shook her head, clearing out the insistent memories. She had work to do. Stopping abruptly in front of the designated meeting room, she glanced inside. Jack Bristow was already seated. Among various members of the SD-6 team she already knew were two new faces, obviously her partners-to-be.  
  
A thin, fair-skinned brunette dressed entirely in black was sitting back in her chair, her elegant features arranged into a carefully bland expression, thick, shoulder-length hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She was likely Sydney Bristow, Jack's daughter. Although he rarely spoke of her, it was clear he though the world of her; he seemed to take it for granted that everyone though she was a wonderful agent.  
  
Sitting directly across from Sydney was a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with a clear, intelligent look of experience about him. Dressed immaculately in a cleanly cut black suit, crisp white shirt and black-and- gray dotted tie, his dark, fathomless eyes were serious, and a small frown creased his forehead. This was Marcus Dixon, Sydney's partner, she assumed. She knew even less about him than she did about Sydney; only that he was a hardworking, dedicated agent with years of experience. "He's a good man- very serious," were Jack Bristow's exact words.  
  
It had been three years since she'd been working for SD-6, and she finally was being promoted. "This is for you, Dad," she said to herself, and a steely look came into her eyes. Her hour had come.  
  
**********  
  
Will Tippen stepped back into his apartment, stretching luxuriously as dropped his keys and headed for the living room. A fantastic English-style breakfast with a gorgeous girl- well, it WAS only Francie, with whom he had a strictly platonic relationship, but what the hell? She was gorgeous. Anyway, a great breakfast, a comfortable couch, pay-per-view, scoring a Sunday date with his stunning assistant at the office, Jenny, and no visible newspaper deadlines in sight made for a weekend made in heaven.  
  
Will kicked off his sneakers, and watched them hit the opposite wall, then shrugged. He'd pick them up later. Sticking a bowl of Pop Secret into the microwave, he plopped down on the sofa and picked up the TV remote. After flicking through channels for about three minutes, he left the channel on MTV and got up to get his popcorn.  
  
When he returned with the popcorn and a bottle of Heinekens, an announcer who had to be either VERY bored or very stoned was introducing a show dealing with the world's hottest clubs. Will immediately picked up the TV guide and thumbed through it, but his search proved futile- nothing good was on, and it was either this or catching up on reading War and Peace, a book Sydney had forced on him after taking a Russian literature class.  
  
Will relaxed in his chair, taking in the gyrating bodies and blinding colors as the announcer's drone took them through France, Italy, Amsterdam and London. When the camera panned to a smoke-filled pool party in Russia, however, something caught his eye.  
  
"How stupid. This isn't even a club," he muttered, but that wasn't what made him sit up straighter.  
  
A curvaceous blonde woman in a form-fitting blue vinyl dress passed in front of the camera for a second, quickly turning her face when she saw that it was on her. It wasn't her curves or her tight dress that caught his attention, although both were quite impressive. It was her face. Although he couldn't put his finger on it, there was something very familiar about her.  
  
Will watched the whole program, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blonde again, but the segment finished quickly and the announcer introduced a club in South Africa, the program finishing soon afterward. Will soon settled into a college football game that followed on ESPN immediately afterward, but he couldn't get that blonde out of his mind. He picked up the guide and flipped to the current day, following the MTV schedule with one index finger. Good! The same episode was rerunning that night at eight-o'clock. Quickly, he inserted a tape into his VCR and programmed it to record at eight. He wasn't taking any chances on missing it. Will couldn't put a finger on why that woman's face bothered him so much- who did HE know in Moscow? He'd know at eight.  
  
********** 


	3. The Spy girls are born

Disclaimer: My God. I don't own them, okay? Rating: Same.  
  
  
  
SD-6 Personnel File CLASSIFIED; Code M683  
  
  
  
Agent Talia Mercedes Carreras  
  
Alias: Trixie Bast DOB: July 11, 1980 Height: 5' ¾ Weight: 98 ½ lbs. Race: Mixed. ½ Russian, ½ Cuban. Born and raised American. Build: Petite. Heavily muscled. Hair: Light Brwn. Eyes: Green. Skin: Dark Tan. Distinguishing Features: Small crescent-moon shaped mole on left hip. Distinguishing Characteristics: Ambidextrous. Photographic memory. Education: BA in linguistics, New York University. Languages: (fluent) English, French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Chinese (Madandiran) Greek, Portugese, Swahili, German, Hebrew, Arabic Special Skills: Languages, accents. Family: Father: Deceased as of March 1999. Fmr. US Supreme Ct. judge Marcus Carreras Mother: Deceased as of January 1981. Russian immigrant Katya Remizov. Uncle: Sergei Remizov, age 37. lives in Moscow, Russia. No known children.  
  
Sydney closed her folder after she had finished reading Agent Carreras' file, momentarily speechless. Agent Carreras was exceptional; that was in no doubt, if everything written about her was true, and if the smug look on Sloane's face over his newest catch revealed anything. And she had recently lost her father.  
  
Sydney felt a rush of sympathy for the young woman, who apparently had nearly no family left, and looked at her father with new gratitude. She might not know him well, and he might have made numerous mistakes with her, but he was still her father.  
  
Sydney's train of thought was interrupted when the door opened and a young woman walked in fearlessly, pushing the glass door wide open. She was young, as her picture had indicated, and quite attractive with well-shaped features, full lips and thick, curly hair in various mixed hues of light and darker browns, the only indication of her Cuban background, along with her slightly tanned skin.  
  
She was astonishingly tiny, but it was evident that she was no weakling- supplementing her fashionably curvy frame were long, corded muscles lining her legs and arms, plainly outlined even under her black coatdress and sheer hose.  
  
Her eyes were definitely her most arresting feature. A heavily lashed, piercing, amber-flecked emerald that couldn't possibly be faked by contacts, they seemed to take in everything in one glance. Her eyes met Sydney's and held them briefly.  
  
"Talia," said Slaone. "Meet Marcus Dixon, and Sydney Bristow. You already know Marshall and Jack, I believe."  
  
Talia shook their hands. "Charmed," she said with a smile. Her voice was light and clear, a heavy New York accent with a slightly foreign twist that sounded unusual in the California setting. She eased herself into her designated chair, alongside Jack, looking even tinier next to him. Sydney surveyed her carefully; Dixon was watching her warily as well. Slone smiled- the second smile that day!- and stood.  
  
"Let's not waste time; I have a meeting in an hour, and I'm sure Agent Carreras will be beneficial to you all. Agents, your next mission will take you to..."  
  
**********  
  
"So let me get this straight," Exactly a hour and a half later, Talia was walking out of the Credit Dauphine building with Sydney, both chewing on hoagies (do they call them hoagies in California?) they'd scored from the office cafeteria. "I'm going back to HIGH SCHOOL?"  
  
"Looks like it." Sydney was just as bewildered, but she managed to give Talia a weak smile. In the hour or so they'd went to get lunch- at her suggestion- she'd proved herself upbeat and perky- but not annoyingly so, with a slightly sarcastic sense of humor. Everything in her attitude screamed 'rookie,' but Sydney liked her already. Her hyperactiveness only added to her general charisma, and it was clear that she was serious about her work.  
  
As they neared the parking lot, Talia grabbed her elbow. "Wait a sec- I just want to make sure I've got everything straight."  
  
"Shoot," said Sydney, pulling out her briefing folder.  
  
Talia hoisted herself up onto the hood of a tiny taxicab-yellow Wrangler Sydney assumed was hers, motioning for Sydney to join her. She crossed her legs underneath her and clasped her hands in her lap.  
  
"Okay. The object of this mission is to recover classified United States nuclear secrets from the hands of Paul Fedorcenko, suspected KGB senior officer, and replace them after copying them and implanting them with a tracing program, before a team of his agents come to get the documents."  
  
Sydney nodded in assertion. "We'll be going to White Sands, Maine. It's a small coastal town, by Sloane's description, but very affluent and somewhat small. A perfect hiding place.  
  
"SD-6 suspects that the documents are hidden in his home here, since recovery teams have gone to his summer home and offices, with no luck. Also, his home is monitored with an unusually high level of security, even, for a spy." She paused for breath.  
  
"If he's had these documents for..." Talia leaned over and shuffled through Sydney's papers. "....four months, why hasn't he given them to his people yet?"  
  
Sydney shrugged. "No one really knows, but SD-6 suspects that due to increased security in the United States and the FBI's search for the documents, KGB is waiting for a safer time to travel. They can't risk interception by US agents, if they wire or mail the documents to their headquarters in Russia. Our mission is to infiltrate the house and wire the documents."  
  
"As high school students."  
  
"Yup." Sydney nodded. "Apparently he's got a seventeen-year-old daughter, Katrina, who's in high school. We're going to enter the school undercover as high school students, fraternal twins, that are new to the area."  
  
Talia picked up the mission brief, continuing where Sydney left off. "Gotcha. Our aliases are Caylin and Theresa Hearth; daughters of American oil tycoon Dennis Hearth, and alias for Agent Bristow...your dad. According to this, we're supposed to...befriend his daughter, and gain entrance to the house?"  
  
Sydney nodded again. "Right. Then we get the documents, or at least find out where they are. We have a month to befriend Katrina, bug her house, find the documents. SD-6 has bought a house right next to the Fedorcenko's- the next estate over, at any rate."  
  
Talia sighed. "Wow. I've been undercover, but this is like...heavy duty stuff. I mean, we're really going to end up using this Katrina girl."  
  
Sydney looked down at her hands. "I know what you mean, but I guess...this is one of those cases where the end justifies the means." Both young women felt silent, remembering Sloane's last words to them.  
  
" Agents, you may be wondering why this agency is going through so much trouble, expense and caution for this mission. The truth of the matter is that everyone who had tried to achieve what we hope you both can has ended up...dead...we are going about this mission an entirely different way....if you can't get to the tree, go after the branches....get that branch, agents. That's our only way we can destroy that tree."  
  
Even in the balmy LA air, Talia and Sydney shivered simultaneously.  
  
Talia's soft voice broke the silence. So, we fly out tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah, at 1300 hours. See you there."  
  
Like? Dislike? Feedback, please. Oh, and don't worry, shippers; Vaughn will soon appear. 


End file.
